10,000 Words
by Sadako Tetsuwan
Summary: 10,000 Words: 100 prompts, 100 words each. It's harder than it looks! Rated for theme and mild language. Slash, SephirothAnsem fluff
1. Ten Percent

Author's Note: This was inspired by a similar project undertaken by MagicalLoser. She told me she was writing 100 word clips from prompts, so I decided I'd do that, too. She, however, only did 20 prompts. I'm gonna do 100. Thus, you will be reading a 10,000 word 'fanfic'. If you cannot:

A) Put up with 10,000 words of fluffy slashfic  
B) Don't like Ansemroth or  
C) All of the above,

Then please bug off, because this fic will contain large amounts of Ansem/Sephiroth fluff (though in no particular order).

Every section is headed by the 'subject' of the clip.

* * *

_**Introduction**_

"My name is Sephiroth," he replied coldly, sheathing his sword as he slowly blinked the blood from his eyes.

"I believe I might have use for your…abilities," Ansem replied, eyeing the blade carefully.

"You think so, hm?" Sephiroth asked, his voice oddly soft for someone standing ankle deep in blood they had just shed. "And who might you be?"

"My name is Ansem," he answered, holding out a white-gloved hand. A cautious Sephiroth shook it; when his black-gloved hand withdrew, the palm of Ansem's glove was bright red.

Somehow, it seemed perfectly fitting to Sephiroth. Ansem couldn't help but agree.

_**Love**_

"I've been meaning to tell you something," Sephiroth announced, watching the Rising Falls with a vague, disinterested stare. His mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

"What's that?" Ansem asked with a similarly disinterested tone of voice, though he was simply bored, his golden eyes fixed on the rosy morning sky.

"…Ansem," Sephiroth murmured, his eyes sliding closed. "…I love you."

"What?" Ansem asked again, his gaze quickly torn from the passing clouds to Sephiroth, who slowly returned the look. The honesty in his eyes was alarming.

"I love you," he repeated softly, longing for the sentiment to be returned.

_**Heaven**_

"Sephiroth?" Ansem called softly, his head resting on Sephiroth's pale chest, "…What's heaven like?"

"Heaven?" Sephiroth asked, blinking down at Ansem through the semi-darkness of the bedroom. "Do you mean the Promised Land?"

"Is that what you call it?" Ansem replied, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Well…it's prosperous," Sephiroth began, not wanting to bore Ansem with the details of Cetran beliefs, "…a land of life and health and peace. It's Paradise," he said simply.

"It sounds fantastic," Ansem sighed. "Pity I'll never see it…"

"Few ever do," Sephiroth murmured, stroking Ansem's hair. "Just find your happiness in this life."

_**Innocence**_

Sephiroth had lost any trace of innocence long ago. When one's hobby is killing, it's hard to maintain any sort of purity.

What was worse, he had no choice. A vicious beast is such a way because of its nature. Instinct drives hunters to kill their prey.

Only man hunts for sport…but what sort of man hunts other men for sport?

Only a madman.

Perhaps that's why Ansem found him so appealing. At once, his killing was a very conscious act, but Sephiroth was also like a wild, untamed beast.

Ansem hoped he could be the man to tame Sephiroth.

_**Drive**_

Again and again, Sephiroth was reminded of what an incredibly driven lover he had. Day and night, he worked tirelessly at his task (what it was, Sephiroth was not entirely sure, but as long as Ansem let him keep his heart and came sneaking into bed at night for some well-deserved love making, he didn't really care). His dark lover's conviction was great; he would spend days on end in his lab, tinkering away.

His words were always the same when Sephiroth entered his lab. "Sephiroth, I swear, if you touch that dial, I will castrate you with a spoon."

_**Breathe Again**_

Sephiroth had been underwater for far too long.

It had been nearly five minutes now, and Ansem was getting concerned for his lover's well-being.

'I'll be right back, I dropped my Munny,' he'd said, 'Just wait right here,' he'd said, before stripping off his clothes (an action which Ansem approved of greatly) and dove into the icy water (an action which Ansem did not approve of at all).

Ansem began pacing at the water's edge, trying to see into the black depths.

Exploding from the water and taking a deep breath was a very cold and unfortunately still penniless Sephiroth.

_**Blood**_

Red looked good on him, Ansem had to admit.

The first time he saw Sephiroth, the One-Winged Angel had been ankle-deep in crimson life, drenched in the warm, thick liquid. It looked as if it had rained blood and he had been caught in the downpour.

The only thing that wasn't soaked through with blood had been his sword…some strange property of the blade. It certainly made maintenance easy.

It allowed more time for Sephiroth to use that blade…to kill. It was what he was born to do.

Sephiroth made killing look so incredibly easy…and he did it with flair.

_**Gray**_

"My hair is NOT gray," Sephiroth insisted, "It's silver."

"Once people reach your age, 'silver' and 'grey' are the same thing," Ansem replied.

"MY age?!" Sephiroth asked, incredulous. "Are you calling me old?"

"Sephiroth, you're the one who told me you were a god, the final stage of an ancient being."

"That doesn't mean that I'm graying," said Sephiroth, "My hair was always silver. Besides, I don't make fun of your hair for being white."

"Who said I was making fun?" Ansem asked, smirking as he wrapped his arms around Sephiroth's neck. "I love your hair. Even if it's gray."

_**Trouble Lurking**_

"What are you doing?" Sephiroth asked as he sat up in bed, setting down his book (which he had been thoroughly engrossed in until a few moments before when he felt and odd skittering under the covers, and had suddenly noticed the disappearance of his lover).

"What do you mean?" came a voice from under the covers.

"I mean you're trying to tickle me. You're not being very inconspicuous, you know," Sephiroth announced, lifting up the blankets and spying a very mischievous-looking Ansem beneath them.

"I knew I'd have trouble lurking down here with YOU on my case," he smirked.

_**Eyes**_

Those eyes. How they burned in the darkness…the amber light of one, the tropical blue glow of the other. Their contrast was perfect, in a way; pale, bone white skin against the richest mahogany, raven black feathers and snow white hair…

But nothing seemed more idyllic than those eyes, gold and aqua reflecting into each other again and again, piercing the darkness around them. Fire burning deep inside them, sparks flying, shimmering in passion…then glazing over in sweet rapture, and slowly closing, as if transitioning from day to night.

A gentle repose for the weary men, the opposites in harmony.


	2. Twenty Percent

Author's Note: In keeping with the spirit of the 100 Prompts 100 Words style of this fic, I present to you part two of my author's note. Yes, my previous Author's Note was 100 words long, and I intend to keep things that way. It balances them nicely.

In any case, the disclaimer missing from Chapter One: I do not, did not, and shall not own either Sephiroth or Ansem. While I would love to, I don't.

I ganked the prompts from deviantART, but I'm not sure who came up with them. It's not Fanfic100, anyway, I know that much.

* * *

_**Dreams**_

He had nightmares sometimes. Horrible nightmares. The kind that he would wake up screaming to, Ansem shaking his shoulder, calling his name, eyes wide.

"Sephiroth!" he cried, shaking his lover's shoulder as the pale man thrashed about, screaming, his limbs tangled in the sheets. "Sephiroth, wake up!"

Sephiroth didn't seem any less distressed when his Mako-tainted eyes snapped open, eyes wide, his body drenched in sweat as he continued struggling against Ansem and the blankets.

"Sephiroth, please, calm down!" Ansem begged, dragging the struggling man into his arms.

"Oh God, please," he whimpered, clinging to Ansem tightly, "Make it stop…"

_**Keeping a Secret**_

I've gone for so long…I don't know if I can keep this up any longer. Sooner or later, someone will find out. The jig'll be up. I'll be finished. I know that Cloud is suspicious of me…Leon, too.

Damnit, I don't want them knowing. They'll tell people before I get the chance to kill them to keep them quiet.

Me being gay was never an issue…I never went out with anyone, fuck off if you think I'd go out with anyone at the Coliseum. But now that Ansem is here…damn.

I should leave the Coliseum. Ansem will keep my secret.

_**Sacrifice**_

"I DEMAND A SACRIFICE!" Sephiroth screamed, thrusting a fist in the air. "BRING ME TWENTY GARBAGE BAGS FULL OF NEWBORN BABIES' BLOOD BY THE WITCHING HOUR!"

"What in the name of the Darkness are you yelling about?!" asked Ansem, a highly irritated expression present on his face.

"Sorry," Sephiroth smiled sheepishly, "Just speaking my mind, like you told me to do."

"I meant for you to tell me what's on your mind, not scream about murdering infants," Ansem replied.

"You say 'murdering infants' like it's a bad thing," Sephiroth said, "You're not turning into some sort of hypocrite, are you?"

_**Kick in the Head**_

"God, I hate that mouse," Sephiroth grumbled.

"What are you whining about?" Ansem asked, not looking up from his book. Sephiroth was prone to sudden, random outbursts of profound hatred.

"Mickey!" he spat. "Freak…that voice is just…God, it's like a mosquito buzzing around in…like, I don't know, some really echo-y place. And his ears are always facing you! I want to kick him in the head…see if his goddamn ears keep facing me THEN."

"You do that, babe," Ansem replied, his eyes flitting across the page. "Just be sure you do the laundry tomorrow, we're getting low on clean socks."

_**Are You Challenging Me?**_

"You can't be serious."

"Dead serious, Sephiroth."

"You're challenging me?"

"Seems that way."

"No, Ansem, I don't want to hurt you."

"Chicken."

"Am not!"

"Yes you are! If you're not chicken, then fight me!"

"Ansem, I don't spar. I kill. I don't want to hurt you, alright?"

"I'm not a weakling, Sephiroth! Don't patronize me!"

"I'm not patronizing you! I'm telling you the truth."

"You just don't want to lose face."

"No, I don't want you to lose YOUR face."

"Fft…I thought you were a fighter."

"I am! That's what I'm telling you!"

"Seem more like a lover to me."

_**Through the Fire**_

The first time I saw him fight at the Coliseum was amazing. His movements were so organic, yet so calculated; watching Sephiroth fight is like watching a master artisan, whittling away at a block of stone to reveal the sculpture inside.

And yet at the same time, it's like watching a panther stalk its prey. His mind is focused on nothing but the fight, meticulously testing his foe before striking the finishing blow.

But as the fight wears on, as he appears to immolate himself, I see his true form through the fire.

An avenging angel, sent to judge mankind.

_**Triangle**_

Sephiroth was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a man of science. It had never had a practical application in his life; he didn't need to know how artillery worked in order for him to tell someone to fire artillery. However, for some reason, he had an incredible gift for geometry.

Sephiroth could freehand an equilateral triangle like it was nothing. He could calculate the curve of a parabola in about three point one four seconds. Angles? He could guess them within a few degrees on sight.

He couldn't explain it; he was also not a man of words.

_**Pain**_

Sephiroth didn't seem to mind pain. Not like most people, anyway. He seemed to delight in it, whether other's pain or his own.

"Would you STOP?" Ansem snapped, throwing down a rag dipped in alcohol as he glared at Sephiroth.

"What?" he asked, prying open a rather deep wound on his arm.

"I'm trying to put you back together, but thus far, you have been circumventing my every attempt! STOP PICKING AT YOUR ARM."

"Heh…this feels weird," Sephiroth grinned, poking his finger into his arm. "Hey, look at this!" he grinned, flexing his arm and watching the muscle beneath move.

_**Heal**_

Despite Sephiroth's strange fascination with his own pain tolerance, the man always managed to heal perfectly. Ansem had spent many hours exploring every inch of the ex-general's body, and had never managed to find any evidence of the angel's history of battles.

"I don't know why I heal so well," Sephiroth would reply, "I'm just glad that I do."

"So am I," Ansem would purr in response, returning to his task, usually involving memorizing every dip and curve of Sephiroth's body.

As if he needed any help remembering, considering the amount of time he spent studying his partner's flawless form.

_**Can You Hear Me?**_

"Ansem? …Ansem…? Aaaaaaaanseeeeeeeeem…"

"WHAT?! WHAT IN THE NAME OF WHOEVER YOU PRAY TO DO YOU WANT?!" Ansem snapped before slamming his hand against the 'transmit' button of the new radio intercom system he had set up (it kept Sephiroth out of his lab, at any rate; he needed to keep the place clean of any foreign bodily fluids, a task that was incredibly difficult with his lover dropping by whenever he pleased). "Yes, Sephiroth?" he asked in a considerably more calm voice.

"Can you hear me?"

"…Yes, Sephiroth, I can hear you."

"Good, because I'm right behind you," Sephiroth smirked.


	3. Thirty Percent

_**Fortitude**_

"I take a sip of the strange drink," Sephiroth announced.

"Roll a Fortitude save, then," Ansem replied from behind his DM screen.

"Thirty-seven."

"Jesus, Seph…thirty-seven?" Ansem asked, gazing over the top of the screen.

"Yeah, I'm Epic, remember? A level 39 Fighter/Sorcerer ain't no pussy."

"Fine. You're not drunk, but you decide you like the flavor of the strange drink. Will you take another sip?"

"If it's that good, then yeah," Sephiroth replied, rolling his d20. "Aw man, a botch..."

"The second swig hits you like an anachronistic freight train. You pass slick out on the tavern floor," Ansem smirked.

_**Rated**_

Sephiroth smiled, leaning over and resting his head on Ansem's shoulder, gazing up at the book his partner was reading. He was silent for a few moments before reaching up and yanking the book out of Ansem's hands.

"Hey!" Ansem snapped, reaching for the book, "What're you doing?"

"Hoo, Ansem, what are you reading?" Sephiroth teased, holding the book over Ansem's head. "This looks like it's pretty R-rated material…'with a heavy moan, he tangled his fingers in the other's hair, thrusting upwards into his mouth—'"

"That's NOT what it says!" Ansem replied, blushing furiously and snatching at the book.

_**Hold my Hand**_

Sephiroth was a surprisingly affectionate man. During the rare moments when he and Ansem were together, he was akin to a puppy; eager to please, and happy, as long as he was getting petted and kissed.

Ansem found his two sides to be almost disturbing in their polarity.

Smiling, Sephiroth would reach for Ansem's gloved hand, grasping it tightly, his fingers entwined with the other's.

"I love you," he would whisper, giving Ansem's hand a light squeeze as Sephiroth flattened his body across the other's chest.

Disturbing as his two sides might be, Ansem loved them both just as dearly.

_**All That I Have**_

"Ansem, no!" Sephiroth begged, grasping a white gloved hand, "Don't go!"

"I have to," he replied calmly, "Do I ever make a fuss when you go searching for Cloud?"

"That's different!" Sephiroth replied, his voice having lost its usual confident tone. "You and I both know there's no chance that I would lose to him!"

"Sephiroth, on those islands lies the secret to my success. I must pursue it!"

"Ansem…please, no! I have a bad feeling about this…"

"Sephiroth, why shouldn't I go? Give me one reason why I should not seize this opportunity!"

"Ansem…You're all that I have…"

_**Dying**_

"Are you afraid of dying?" Ansem asked, wrapped firmly in his lover's arms, their bodies hidden beneath the blankets, their faces hidden in the shadows beneath Sephiroth's wing.

"No," Sephiroth replied, his voice barely above a whisper, "Why would I be?"

"Isn't everyone?" Ansem whispered in reply.

"Not when you can't be killed," Sephiroth smiled. "If death cannot reach you, what fear can you possibly have of it?"

"…So you're immortal?" Ansem asked softly, tracing patterns across Sephiroth's damp skin.

"In a way," he replied, "…Why do you ask?"

"No reason…just curious, that's all," Ansem replied.

Sephiroth was not convinced.

_**Silence**_

The two men sat in silence, Sephiroth staring out the window, Ansem staring at Sephiroth.

'He's normally quite talkative,' Ansem mused, watching as Sephiroth simply blinked and stared outside. "…Sephiroth?" he called.

Silence.

"…Sephiroth, are you all right?" he asked again. Nothing. Not even a sign of acknowledgement. "…Sephiroth? Are you ignoring me?"

Sephiroth's eyes flitted as a bird flew by.

"Sephiroth!" Ansem shouted, slamming his book shut.

"What?!" Sephiroth yelled, turning his attention to Ansem.

"Quit ignoring me!" Ansem snapped.

"What?!" Sephiroth asked again, cupping his hand to his ear. "I can't hear, something exploded by my ear today!"

_**Hero**_

"Isn't there some stupid rule here in the Underworld?" Ansem asked, sitting patiently on a rather uncomfortable looking rock.

"What do you mean?" Sephiroth asked, putting a rather large demon through its paces.

"Something about heroes not having any strength down here…" Ansem replied, his last words drowned out by the shriek of Sephiroth's opponent. "Supposedly, not even other gods can come down here, or they lose their strength."

"The rule doesn't apply to ex-heroes," Sephiroth replied, leaping back and flexing his wing as the demon lashed out. "Burning down a town and killing innocent people revoked my 'Hero' status."

_**Sorrow**_

Surely, destiny had fated these two men to meet.

Sephiroth, the general who never failed to leave death, destruction and sorrow in his wake.

Ansem, the Heartless King whose armies never seemed to take any losses, their numbers always growing.

A match made in Heaven, some might say. Their victims would surely tell you that they were unholy monsters, crafted in the darkest reaches of Hell, too powerful even for the darkest depths of eternity.

No matter the origin, they were perfect. A balance in one light, a vortex of darkness in another.

They wouldn't have it any other way.

_**Smile**_

Seeing a smile on Sephiroth's face was unusual. Unnatural. It was just plain wrong in many people's eyes. What on earth could a man like that possibly smile about…and who would want to know what made him smile? Killing someone? Razing a town?

Not today.

Today, a smile on his face looked perfectly natural, comfortable and at home. Curled up with his head in Ansem's lap, taking a well-deserved catnap, a gentle smile on his face…Sephiroth didn't look unusual in the slightest.

Nor did he look unusual as Ansem stroked his hair gently, petting him like an oversized house cat.

_**Expectations**_

"Whatcha reading this time?" Sephiroth asked, smiling.

"I'm reading 'Great Expectations', which, for your information, has NO R-rated material in it," Ansem replied, shooting Sephiroth a furtive look.

"Well, where's the fun in that?" Sephiroth asked, flopping back against the pillows.

"…Good question," Ansem replied, reading the same line for the third time. "There's a lot of words…but not a lot of substance. Besides," he sighed, "now that Magwitch is dead, there's really nothing left to keep me interested."

"Maybe I can spice it up a bit," Sephiroth smirked, reaching for the book, "If you don't mind some R-rated inserts…"


	4. Forty Percent

_**Insanity**_

It was well know that Sephiroth wasn't playing with a full deck. He was one sandwich short of a picnic, a few notes short of a tune.

Ansem had certainly noted a few of Sephiroth's less lucid moments.

"Go wash your hands!" Sephiroth ordered, his hands on his hips. "Tracking dirt all through the house…you look like a little urchin!"

"Yes, mother," Ansem muttered, rolling his eyes as he stalked off to the bathroom. He'd failed to find a pattern to Sephiroth's insanity.

"Ansem? What are you doing?" Sephiroth asked minutes later, "You've washed your hands, like, five times today."

_**Cat**_

"Hey, Ansem?" Sephiroth asked, poking his head into Ansem's study.

"Yes?" Ansem was, thankfully, in a mood to suffer Sephiroth's presence in his most sacred chambers. It was rare that he allowed his lover into an area filled with precious research and experiments.

"What's up with Schrödinger's Cat?" he asked, holding up a book he had found on Ansem's shelves.

"Well, see, it can't be both alive and dead at the same time," Ansem explained simply. "That's the point."

"No!" Sephiroth replied, irritated, "Where are they gonna find an isotope that has a 50 chance of decaying in an hour?!"

_**Advertisement**_

"Dear God," Ansem remarked, a rather large advertisement for roll-on strawberry-flavored underwear staring up at him from the plain-cover magazine he had found on Sephiroth's nightstand. "What the Hell is this?"

"It's sexy," Sephiroth replied, sliding into bed.

"It's EDIBLE UNDERWEAR," Ansem replied.

"Yeah. I bought some," Sephiroth smirked. "It tastes pretty good, too…I rolled some onto my tongue," he explained as Ansem's eyes bugged out. It was at once an amusing and frightening image. "Wanna try some on?"

"I'd rather not…"

"Oh c'mon, it comes off easy."

"How do you know?"

"I didn't just test it on my tongue."

_**Food**_

"You're not eating?" Ansem asked, glancing at Sephiroth's plate. He'd barely picked at it, perhaps one or two bites were missing from his mashed potatoes.

"'M not hungry," he replied in a grunt.

"Sephiroth, do you know how many hours I slaved over this meal?" Ansem asked, furrowing his brows as he glared at Sephiroth.

"About ten minutes," he replied. "And _I_ made the potatoes, too."

"Seph, I've hardly ever seen you eat," Ansem remarked, crossing his arms. "You'll starve."

"Ansem, I lived for five years a Mako crystal. I don't need a lot of food…just save it for later."

_**Mirror**_

It was one of his bad days.

Ansem could tell already. He woke up that morning to an empty bed, though he had been certain Sephiroth had been there when they went to sleep. He had bad days sometimes…it was inevitable when you were in such an unstable state as Sephiroth.

The soft sound of the shower sounded from the bathroom. Curious, Ansem nudged the door open and padded inside.

The shower door was wide open, the hot water streaming onto a very calm Sephiroth, still in his soaking wet pajamas. The bathroom mirror was shattered…and his hands, they were…

_**Broken Pieces**_

The water falling on Sephiroth was quite clean, but the water heading down the drain was tinged red. Several shards of the broken mirror were sticking rather painfully out of Sephiroth's knuckles.

"Seph…!" Ansem cried softly, padding to his lover's side. Sephiroth's head was tipped back, his eyes closed.

"It was laughing at me," he murmured, tightening his fist. The broken pieces of glass moved as he did so, causing Ansem to wince.

"…The mirror?" he asked softly, reaching as if to pull out a rather large piece, but hesitating.

"No…the reflection," Sephiroth whispered, the trails of blood washing away.

_**Drowning**_

"Hey, Ansem?" Sephiroth called.

"What, love?" was his response from the next room.

"Can fish drown?" Sephiroth asked. "I mean, we breathe air, but we can suffocate…could a fish drown if it ran out of Oxygen in the water?"

"Sephiroth, if water ran out of Oxygen, it would just be Hydrogen," Ansem replied. "PUT THAT FISH BACK IN THE TANK!" he snapped, entering the room. Sephiroth sighed, reluctantly replacing a rather large angelfish, which swam with great haste into some artificial plants.

"That was my next question," Sephiroth pouted, "If we drown in water, could a fish drown in air?"

_**Playing the Melody**_

"And don't give me any of this 'I don't like Classical music' crap," Ansem ordered, sitting Sephiroth down rather forcefully on the couch as he popped in a new CD and returned to his lover.

"Who said I don't like it?" Sephiroth asked, raising an eyebrow. Ansem blinked.

"I don't know," he began, "…but you seem the type to say that it's boring or something."

Ansem was pleasantly surprised. Sephiroth managed to sit still for all of Beethoven's 9th. Though as the 4th movement played on, he was surprised to find Sephiroth crying.

"…It's…it's just so beautiful…" he sniffed quietly.

_**Do Not Disturb**_

A 'Do Not Disturb' sign was always hung on the door to Ansem's lab. Even when he wasn't in there to be disturbed, the sign was present. A thin layer of dust had settled on it, though Sephiroth was sure it would be thicker if Ansem hadn't seen the need to slam the door after throwing Sephiroth out so often.

However wide the intellectual gap between Sephiroth and Ansem might have been, though, they both possessed senses of humor. Odd ones, but they were present nonetheless.

Thus, when the sign reappeared on their bedroom door, Ansem couldn't help but laugh.

_**Dark**_

The darkness of their bedroom was almost total. An odd glow would flash on and off as Sephiroth's eyes opened and closed, but other than that, the room was dark.

It wasn't dark like a cave, though. Caves were dark and cold and silent and had an odd smell to them, between the bat guano and the crusty, mineral-enriched water.

Their bedroom was a warm sort of darkness. It was hot and sticky and filled with moans and heavy breath and soft cries of pleasure, velvety voices and silken sheets, low whispers and promises and declarations from king to general.


	5. Fifty Percent

_**Drink**_

"Do you sample the strange drink?" Ansem asked, peering over his DM screen.

"Hell no!" Sephiroth replied. "Not after what happened LAST time! …I make my familiar drink it," he added.

Ansem rolled his eyes. "Seph, your familiar has the same Fort as you!"

"I make Snakey drink the liquid," Sephiroth insisted, glaring.

"Fine, fine, you make your familiar drink the liquid…" he glanced up. "Are you sure about this?"

"SNAKEY DRINKS IT."

Ansem sighed. "Fine, Snakey drinks it. It's an Engorgement Potion, and he is now 60 feet long. He crushes you under his new weight."

"…This game sucks."

_**Light**_

"Seph?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do your eyes glow like that?" Ansem asked, rolling over. Like two tiny beacons, Sephiroth's eyes cut through the darkness of the bedroom with a soft bluish-green, like an animal's eyes when the light hits them just right.

"It's the Mako," he replied. He blinked a few times, the light flickering on and off before he flipped onto his side. "It lets me keep getting stronger," he explained. He knew he didn't have to use layman's terms with Ansem, but he didn't want to try and explain the processes involved in what went into making a SOLDIER.

_**Spiral**_

"Sephiroth? What's this little squiggly thing?" Ansem asked, holding out a beaten bronze plate. It was covered in odd geometric patterns, spiraling designs, odd squiggles and wing-like patterns.

"Put that down!" Sephiroth scolded softly, snatching the plate from Ansem's hands. "That's my seal," he replied. "You're not supposed to touch it," he muttered, breathing on it and buffing the surface slightly.

"And those little spiral-y things are…?"

"My name," Sephiroth replied. Ansem took another look, but it was hardly any script he could recognize. "It's Angelic script," he added, waving Ansem away. Ansem raised a brow.

"Whatever you say, love…"

_**Mischief Managed**_

"Ansem, you can't make a Marauder's Map," Sephiroth insisted. "Harry Potter is FICTION."

"How do you know?" Ansem asked, hovering over a piece of parchment on which he had drawn a very detailed (albeit two-dimensional) map of Hollow Bastion, "How do you know we're not fiction and Harry Potter is reality?"

"Ansem, that's twisted," Sephiroth replied.

"OK…moment of truth!" Ansem cried happily, prodding the parchment and stating loudly, "Mischief Managed!"

Without missing a beat, the lines disappeared from the parchment.

"Told ya I could," Ansem smirked.

"Alright, so you made it disappear…now bring the map back," Sephiroth smirked in return.

_**Teamwork**_

"We should enter the next tournament together," Sephiroth mused, peering out a window.

"What? Why?" Ansem asked, glancing up from his book. 'Great Sexpectations' had hit a rather dull point; Sephiroth admitted that there was nothing he could do to save that chapter, but Ansem was determined to read it anyway.

"Think about it. With your magic and my sword, we'd be an unstoppable team!" Sephiroth replied, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "C'mon, Ansem!"

"I thought you worked alone," Ansem stated more than asked.

"C'mon, a little teamwork in the future can't possibly hurt us, could it?"

_**Childhood**_

Ansem didn't remember his childhood. It didn't seem to matter much to him, anyway; as far as he was concerned, it must have been alright. After all, he turned out just fine.

"What about you, Seph?" he would ask. "Do you remember yours?"

"I…no," Sephiroth would always reply, even as shadows of pain would sear through his flesh; phantom needles breaking his skin to inject nonexistent liquids into his tiny infant body. He could feel the burn of the Mako on his skin, and even in the present, his stomach would churn at the flashbacks.

"I don't remember mine, either."

_**Stripes**_

"Wow, that's a lot of stripes," Ansem stated, taking a look at an old photograph of Sephiroth in his dress uniform. The dress uniform seemed to be littered with stripes of gold against blue, as if trying to turn him into some sort of bipedal Technicolor zebra.

"You should've seen my ribbons," Sephiroth replied, smirking. Ansem couldn't help the fact that his first mental image was that of a young Sephiroth in a pink, frilly dress with his hair done up in pigtails and bows.

"What's so funny?"

"N-Nothing," Ansem gasped, covering his mouth as he continued howling with laughter.

_**Deep in Thought**_

"You lose your hearing again?" Ansem asked, glancing up at Sephiroth as the pale man stared out the window.

"No," he replied, his voice vague, "I was just thinking…"

"That's dangerous, Sephiroth…be careful," Ansem smirked.

"Mmhmm."

"…What're you thinking about?"

"Stuff." Ansem sighed, rubbing his temples.

"What _kind_ of stuff, Seph?"

"Just stuff," Sephiroth replied, his chin in his hands as he watched a cloud float by, sparking his train of thought into action as it finally left the boarding station. "…I hate Clouds."

"What's wrong with clouds?" Ansem asked, raising an eyebrow, "And why're you bringing that up now?"

_**Rainbow**_

"Ansem, I've got another question!"

"Are you torturing the fish again?" Ansem replied, exasperated.

"No," he replied, slipping the gasping fish back in the tank before jogging over to Ansem. "If I could see infrared light, would rainbows look different?"

"What? Why are you asking me this?" Ansem asked, "Why do you care?"

Sephiroth pouted. "Are you not going to answer?" Ansem sighed in exasperation.

"I would assume that you could, yes. A rainbow is a scattering of all the light in the spectrum. I still don't know why you want to know…"

"Aw man, I wanted to stump you."

_**Starvation**_

Sephiroth was a man starved for affection. There was really no other way of saying it. Hojo had never been anything remotely resembling a father to him; he had no family to speak of…and all of the people he got close to seemed to die in battle.

When one looked at the man's situation in that light, it was really quite understandable why he would cling so tightly to Ansem, why he so longed for their moments of passion…and why Ansem, oblivious to Sephiroth's childhood experience, couldn't help but look at him and think how pitiful the ex-general was sometimes.


End file.
